One of Many Faces
by viridianjane
Summary: Arthur, Merlin and the knights are hunting a magical beast known to make vicious, personal attacks - but only against the strongest among them. Thus, Arthur is convinced Merlin is safer than he's ever been. Merlin knows better. Magic Reveal, Freylin.


The cave is dark, cold, and wet. Water drips from the roof and chills their bones; Merlin shivers, a sense of foreboding settling in the cavity of his lungs, weighing him down more and more with every step.

"I think we should turn back, Arthur."

" _What?_ _Mer_ lin, we've only just managed to figure out where this creature is hiding. We're not backing out now, just because of one of your _funny feelings_."

"Tell me, Arthur, when was the last time I was wrong, hmm? When was the last time you _didn't_ regret not listening to me? Honestly, I don't know why I keep this job. No one listens to me. And —"

Merlin stops abruptly, cutting off without finishing his sentence. The knights' chuckling whittles down when they notice him falling behind, and turn to see Merlin's back to them, gaze focused on the path from which they've come. "Did you hear that?"

Arthur snorts, "Merlin, I don't know why you're so scared. Gaius told us that this beast will only go after — and therefore only affect — the strongest of us. You're probably the safest one here."

Which makes Merlin's heart twist, sharpening the dread and guilt and settling it even more in his chest. _And that's what makes me so nervous._

The creature they're after is called, according to Gaius, a _multorum vultuum exspiravit,_ or a _spiritus locorum._ 'One of many faces', it means. It reflects your fears, your regrets and your doubts in physical form. _Whatever that is supposed to be._

 _It is a creature that feeds on the life of others. Be it their strength, their courage, their magic — if it is power to one person, then it is power to this creature,_ Gaius told him. _Be wary of it, Merlin. To such a being, you are a beacon in an endless night._

 _The most important thing, Merlin, is to_ not look at it. _Do you understand? You musn't look at it!_

Whispers crawl along the walls and snake around Merlin's feet, twisting and tangling until he thinks maybe they're physical things.

But when he looks down all he sees is rock, and his old, worn boots.

He looks up, sees the knights watching him, and swallows. _It's ok. This is going to be ok._ "What? I'm coming."

Arthur only shakes his head and sighs. "Well, _come on,_ then. Let's get this over with."

Deeper and deeper they go; Merlin's fingers go numb, but he can't tell if it's because of the cold or his nerves. _What signs are we looking for? How do we know we're getting closer?_

They reach an opening in the tunnel, and the knights immediately spread out into a circular formation, filling the chamber and drawing their swords.

"Gaius said that this creature focuses on mental attacks," Arthur tells them. "But not very clear on what kind. It seems to be personal to the one they're after, so it's best we strike as soon as possible; if we can sneak up on it, even better."

The men nod, keeping low to the ground and eyes forward. Merlin is in the middle, put their by Gwaine and kept their with a single glare from Arthur.

 _Because they think I need their protection,_ he sighs. _When will I allow this to end?_

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in, yeah?"

Merlin stiffens, alert.

"Look at you, a _city boy_ now, too good for us _lowly_ peasants."

" _Will,_ " Merlin hisses.

Arthur turns, incredulous. " _What?_ "

A ghostly figure limps into the chamber, foot dragging and lungs rattling; Merlin turns away from it, nausea taking hold in his core. _Gaius said you have to ignore it. You_ can't _look at it._

"Eh? Who's Will?" Gwaine asks, shouldering Merlin behind him and focusing on the spectre. "Do I know Will?"

Merlin opens his mouth to answer, but Arthur cuts him off. "No. Will was Merlin's friend in Ealdor, but he died years ago." His tone is just bordering on accusatory when he continues, "Why would this thing be after _you,_ Merlin?"

"I — I don't _know,_ Arthur." Merlin flounders, too panicked to come up with a proper lie and too unsettled by the sound of Will's voice. "I don't —"

" _Liar! You filthy, lying, bastard!"_

"You sure he was your friend, Merlin?" Gwaine asks under his breath. "He's not very pleasant."

"Of _course_ Merlin knows why I'm coming after him. It's the reason I died, isn't it? It's the reason why _all_ of us had died, that day. Because you were too much of a _coward._ You _let us die._ "

"Don't look, don't look, _don't look_." Merlin whispers, covering his ears and bowing his head. "He's not _real_."

"Merlin. _Look at me."_

"Merlin," Arthur steps forward. "Just — whatever is happening, clearly this thing isn't very strong if it's going after you. Just don't look at it."

He says it like it should be _easy_ , and Merlin almost hates him for it. He can _feel_ the power of the creature, feel tendrils of dark energy snaking along the walls and dripping from the ceiling, pressing closer, closer, _closer —_

" _Look at me!"_

" _No!"_ Merlin swings his hands out, eyes hidden so the others can't see them change to gold. Quiet envelops them, and the darkness seems deeper and colder than it was before. He breathes heavily, chest heaving and hands shaking.

Arthur lays his hand on Merlin's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. It's not quite reassuring. "It seems to be gone now. At least we know what this thing does to try and torment us." He shifts his grip on his sword and rolls his shoulders. "Of course only magic could be so cruel as to taunt us with those we've lost. Let's go," he gestures to a tunnel opposite them, and starts forward.

They make it through another 10 minutes of silence before footsteps sound behind them. They're slow, untroubled; the pace of a hunter, rather than hunted.

"To me — _to me!_ " Arthur hisses, under his breath.

The knights gather round, keeping Merlin once more in the centre.

"Merlin? Merlin, my friend, why won't you come and greet me?"

Merlin isn't the only one who stops at the sound of the voice. Arthur turns an accusatory glance on him again. _"Lancelot?"_

Merlin's eyes are wide, and he shakes his head — _I don't know, I don't know why it's him, why it's me —_

Rocks tumble and roll, and the orange glow of a nearing torch allows them to see the shadow of a man. Merlin sees the shape of a figure turn the corner and shuts his eyes. He turns away quickly, putting his back to the shade.

"Merlin? Why did you turn around?" It sounds genuinely confused. "You won't greet me? After everything I've done for you — all of the secrets I've kept for you."

Merlin's eyes are still closed, but he can feel the unease in the air; Arthur steps closer but even without looking the distance feels strained. The knights hesitate and swing their weight foot to foot.

"...Merlin. What is it talking about?" Arthur's voice is low and terse in his ear. Merlin thinks that Arthur's skin should be warm, but all he can feel is the cold of his armour. He swallows audibly, and curses his own nervousness.

"We've all got secrets, Arthur. Lancelot was… it was so easy to talk to him."

"Oh, but no one's got secrets like yours, Merlin. Secrets that people die for. I had kept it gladly, until you _sacrificed_ me, on the Isle of the Blessed."

"Don't you _dare_ say that!" Merlin turns, unthinking, to face the creature. It has Lancelot's face, his voice, but its eyes are dead and black. " _You twist and pervert and you feed on fear and regrets._ Lancelot was a good man and you won't catch me spouting such madness."

And then suddenly it's in Merlin's face, breath cold and putrid, hissing and spitting through rows of fangs. He turns away sharply, and the spectre fades to smoke.

The knights shuffle, uneasy and unsure. "Merlin?" Gwaine hesitates. "You alright?"

Arthur eyes him, expression unreadable.

Merlin squares his shoulders. "Let's go."

* * *

Merlin tries to convince them to leave to no avail — now Arthur is irritated, and there is nothing that will convince an irritated Arthur to change his mind, especially with Merlin being the source of said irritation.

"You've got some explaining to do, Merlin." He doesn't look back at him when he says it.

Merlin swallows, and stutters, "Wh-what are you talking about, Arthur?"

" _Oh for —_ for pete's sake, _Mer_ lin, don't even _try_ to lie about it." For a moment he looks like he'll turn around, but he stops. He tries for words, and then tries again. "You're too upset for it to be a lie."

He sounds tired, tired like Merlin's been every day since he arrived in Camelot.

"Alright," he whispers.

* * *

"Son."

Merlin doesn't even start at the sound of Balinor's voice.

"What kind of son have I sired, when he can't even _look_ at me, so ashamed is he of what he's done, of what he _is?"_

It hasn't materialized yet. The voice echoes, but there is nothing grounding it.

" _Show yourself, beast!"_ Gwaine cries, going for his sword. "You speak of cowardice and shame; there is none here but yours!"

It laughs, the sound foreboding and sinister and _knowing_. "What is cowardice and shame if not rejecting the blood that flows in your veins? If you hold your dying father in your arms and have the ability to save him, but choose not to, are you not a coward?

"Look at me, Merlin. Look at me, or you are no son of mine."

The scream of metal colliding with stone echoes around through the cave. _"Show yourself! Show yourself now!"_

It's clear Arthur recognized the voice, and Merlin's heart breaks for him.

The voice that responds to Arthur's challenge isn't the one they were expecting, however. It rings clear and high, sending shivers down their spines. Morgana steps into their sight, dressed in velvet and dragging her nails along the stone.

She smiles. "Hello, Merlin."

"Merlin? Merlin, what is this?" Arthur inches closer to him. "I thought it was only _dead_ people."

Merlin still isn't looking at the the beast, but he can _feel_ it's gaze shift from him to Arthur.

"Oh, I _am_ dead. _Merlin_ killed me. He laced the water with poison, _hemlock,_ of all things — and _held me_ as I _died._ I trusted him, I told him my secret, I told him about my _fears, my dreams, my magic!_ " A blast sounds to Merlin's right, and he knows this creature would have gold eyes as well as it causes the rock to crumble around them.

"Face me! _Face me!_ Merlin, you _coward, face me!"_

" _No!"_ Merlin's voice reverberates in the chamber, and the knights are stunned to silence.

Morgana is gone.

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur growls, "You have some explaining to do."

Merlin swallows, "Arthur, I swear, I _will_ , but can we please leave? I can feel it coming back, and I don't know who —"

"Merlin?"

Heart, breath, and thoughts all stop; it's enough that he feels himself slip, feels the tendrils of dark energy slither inside and wrap claws of smoke and nightmares around his heart.

Merlin groans in despair. "Not her, _not her."_

"Merlin?" She's crying. "Merlin, it's _hurts."_

He covers his ears. He thinks maybe Arthur grips his shoulder, but anything he says is lost to him.

Every one of her — _it, not her, it's not her_ — footsteps sound like a drum in his head. He can feel it getting closer, and he can smell the blood and it's so real he can _see her_ , lying in his arms and dying. Tears, hot and burning, streak down his face.

"Merlin. Why — why am I hurt? You said you were going to _protect me_. You were going to _save_ me.

"But you're with _him!"_ She sobs, "You serve the man that did this to me!

"You said you loved me," she chokes off in a whisper. "Merlin, look at me. _Please,_ Merlin. It hurts so much. I just want to see your face. I forgive you. _I forgive you, I just want to see you, Merlin."_

And it's too much. She's right in front of him, all she wants is for him to look at her. To _see_ her. And how can he say no to Freya?

 _My Freya,_ he thinks. And he can see her clearly, eyes are not black, but the warmest brown. Her cheeks are flushed and her hands are soft when they cup his cheek. _How did I ever think it wasn't her?_

She smiles, but Merlin can't tell that it's too wide, too red, too _other._ "There you are," she breathes.

* * *

To say the knights are surprised at the appearance of the girl would be an understatement. _Merlin, and a girl?_ Arthur thinks. _And one who means a lot to him_.

And clearly she's the one closest to Merlin's heart; no matter how the knights try to get through to him, Merlin is unmovable. Eyes stare blankly at the ground, hands locked over his ears. From the way he shakes, Arthur doesn't believe it helps.

Its voice is a mockery of what in life would have been small and sweet; it cries for an explanation from Merlin, twists tales of love and loss and claims that _Arthur_ is the one who did this the girl.

The smell of blood gets stronger, and Arthur has a feeling that that isn't good.

It couldn't possibly be true; Merlin never spoke of a girl, and why would Arthur have killed an innocent?

 _But Merlin hasn't spoken of a lot of things._

"You said you loved me," it rasps, throat full of nails and blood. "Merlin, look at me. _Please,_ Merlin. It hurts so much. I just want to see your face. I forgive you. _I forgive you, I just want to see you, Merlin."_

And Merlin looks at it; Arthur's heart sinks. _Oh, Merlin._

The creature pounces, claws drawing blood digging into his cheek. " _There you are."_

And then Arthur and the knights are pushed even further back, a wall of magic hitting them like stone. The force is immediate and _powerful_ , and they all hear Merlin's choked gasp.

" _Merlin!"_ Arthur cries, thrown onto his back but trying to fight the weight forcing him down. He can see them, frozen in the middle of the chamber and ignorant of the rest of them. The creature doesn't look like the girl anymore, more of a thing made of smoke and bones and fear, with black streaks of what Arthur can only assume is _magic_ , pouring out of it, into it, through Merlin, into the ground —

"That's it," it coos, stroking Merlin's cheek. His eyes are empty and his body limp, completely unresponsive. "We understand one another, don't we, Merlin? One monster to another."

 _Monster? What is it talking about?_

It places a hand on Merlin's chest, and a hissing sound comes from the contact. Even in his unconscious state, Merlin flinches from the pain, and the gasped inhale sounds so much like a death rattle it sends a shiver down Arthur's spine.

"You were wrong, Merlin, when you said I wasn't a monster. When you said _we_ weren't monsters. You're not even _human_.

"But I can love you, Merlin. If you come with me, _if you just let me have you_ , I'll love you, all the same."

It rises to him, seals Merlin's lips in a kiss that makes the walls tremble and ice settle in Arthur's bones. They do not breathe for fear of there not being any air left in the chamber at all. Rocks crack and small fissures open underneath Arthur's back; he knows that if they stay much longer, the cave will fall in on itself and kill them all.

Merlin lifts his hand to the creature's cheek, not quite holding it in his palm. It nuzzles, still playing the girl, and Merlin quirks his head to the side, thoughtful.

"You're not her," he states, completely monotone.

It freezes. "What?"

" _You're. Not. Her."_ Merlin's fingers dig into its flesh, holding it steady.

And Merlin's eyes flash gold, and the spectre crumbles to dust.

* * *

The lake is serene in its stillness. Merlin sits on the shore, his back to Arthur and the knights. The journey to the lake had been quiet — too quiet, really, but with Merlin squashed between Gwaine and Percival due to his sudden inability to walk properly and Arthur's determination to ignore his servant completely, there was nothing to do about it.

He can hear Gwaine arguing with Arthur at the treeline, but doesn't bother trying to understand the words. Exhaustion tries to pull him into the ground and keep him there; he's never felt the weight of his bones so acutely before.

 _I'm going to need to put a note in Gaius' book about that thing. 'Avoid at all costs.'_

There's a sound, like a trickle of water, coming from in front of him. He peels his eyes open to watch the surface ripple, not truly understanding what is happening until she breaks the surface — she appears as though she is standing, no matter that only her waist is above the water and that the water must only be a foot deep.

Her eyes are beautiful and sad and the colour of honey and for a moment Merlin is lost in them — how could he have thought that monster was her? His hands begin to shake and he feels panic clawing at his throat. Words are impossible.

 _Oh, Merlin._ Freya's voice echoes over the lake, but he's unsure of whether or not he's the only one to hear. She falls to her knees in front of him, landing in the dirt and filthying her beautiful white gown. Merlin tries to shake her off, tell her that she shouldn't fuss, but she's wrapping her arms around him and he can't bring himself to stop it.

 _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry —_

 _Hush, Merlin. It's ok. It's not your fault._

He pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her nearly twice she's so small, and when he runs his fingers through her hair it's as smooth as silk. Her face is tucked into the side of his neck and she runs soothing hands over his head and down his back, whispering comforting words for only him to hear.

He thinks for a moment about what awaits him in Camelot — an explanation he doesn't know if he's ready to give, arguments and fear —

As if she can hear his thoughts, she places a gentle hand on his cheek. _You are so brave, Merlin, and so unbelievably kind. I am so sorry that you suffer so, and I wish with all my heart that this truth will help dawn brighter days._

She kisses his mouth, the softest touch of her lips against his. Merlin doesn't know if she's casting a spell to keep the others ignorant or if they really are so blind to not see what's happening, but he can't bring himself to care. He sighs as she settles closer to him and feels calm like he hasn't for days. _I love you._

Their time together is so brief.

She smiles into his neck. _And I you._


End file.
